When Stephen Colbert threw his hat into the presidential ring — before South Carolina threw it back — he was embarking on a remarkably recurrent pop-culture event. It’s unlikely that even Colbert was aware of the tradition he was continuing — but for a century now, a different popular entertainer has made a significant, quixotic run for the presidency every 20 years. Colbert, though his candidacy appears to have lasted only a few weeks, is the fifth in a proud line of satirists, performers, and puppets.

1928 Folksy humorist Will Rogers was the first in this series of funnymen to seek office, or at least go through the motions. Life magazine was the instigator, introducing an editorial suggesting Rogers be added to the ballot as the “Anti-Bunk” candidate. Almost instantly, Babe Ruth and Henry Ford lent their names to the “campaign,” and Rogers began writing a weekly column in Life, brimming with jokes about his candidacy — and the other candidates, as well. His only campaign promise? “If elected, I will resign.” He didn’t have to.

1948 The next popular entertainer to run for high office was Howdy Doody, the wooden marionette star of NBC’s Puppet Playhouse Presents. (A year later, it would be renamed The Howdy Doody Show, in honor of the popularity of its star.) Freckle-faced Howdy was running for a special post — president of all the kids — and sent free campaign buttons to anyone who wrote in. They received 60,000 requests, at a time when the number of American homes equipped with TV sets was only triple that.

1968 Here was the most brilliant campaign of all, and the one that served as a template for what Colbert wanted to do, and could have done. The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, a daringly topical CBS variety series, decided to lampoon the volatile presidential race by putting up its own faux editorialist, deadpan comedian Pat Paulsen, as a candidate.

At first, Paulsen went on the show to deny emphatically he was running — then to insist he’d been misquoted, and finally, to announce himself as the representative of the Straight Talkin’ American Government party. The STAG party, for short. Paulsen gave speeches on the Comedy Hour, and even hit the campaign trail, mingling with Robert F. Kennedy, who got the joke and played along, and with some other, less comfortable actual candidates. He was a write-in candidate, not on any official ballot — which is what allowed him to wage his campaign on such a grand scale in the first place.

Paulsen’s 1968 stand on abortion — remember, this was five years before Roe v. Wade — could just as easily have been voiced today by Colbert.

It was an astoundingly unsettled time: President Lyndon Johnson announced his decision not to seek a second term, and Bobby Kennedy sought the Democratic nomination, but was shot and killed after winning the California primary. On the other side, Richard Nixon would run for the Republican nomination, and win, and become president of the United States. Paulsen, though, got 200,000 actual or protest write-in votes in the 1968 election.

What smell? It’s always summer to George W. Bush, our lazy, hazy, crazy commander in chief who puts in shorter presidential work weeks than Woodrow Wilson did after he was paralyzed by a stroke.

Ship without a rudder It’s a simple question: other than the candidate — who has a day job, after all — who is running Attorney General Tom Reilly’s campaign for governor?

All the ugly people Why did Maine voters give overwhelming approval to a tax-repeal referendum on Nov. 4, while simultaneously returning to office even more of the Democratic legislators who passed the unpopular tax in the first place?

Grass roots fire fight During its recent convention, the Maine Green Party transformed itself from a chronically decentralized group of activist-skeptics into a maybe, possibly, if-you-squint-your-eyes-could-be a unified party with a palpable lust for political power.

The battle of Rhode Island Heading into the home stretch of the 2006 gubernatorial race, Lieutenant Governor Charles Fogarty has cause for hope and reason for concern.

Will race enter the race? Two years ago, when Dianne Wilkerson inexplicably failed to submit the necessary signatures to get her name on the Democratic primary ballot for re-election as state senator, a 28-year-old upstart seized the opportunity.

Menino's 50-Percent Solution For years, many in Boston (including here at the Phoenix ) have lamented the absence of a vigorous campaign that would force the long-time incumbent to defend his record and discuss the issues.

Where has all the Gonzo gone? On top of everything else they’ve blighted over their awful eight-year reign, the Bushies did this: they killed Hunter S. Thompson.